Gastronome Montréalais

I'm a confirmed Torontonian now, having settled into a house of my own last year. But I was, and forever will be, a Montrealer.

Most of the life experiences I draw from took place on that island. Admittedly, the novelty of the city had long worn off by the time I uprooted myself and migrated over to Toronto. When people ask me if I miss it, my answer is typically "no". I've grown tired/bored of rabid Quebec separatism, the stagnant local economy, ill-conceived city management, psychotic drivers, reliably unreliable public transit, a long-suffering and dwindling press, the World Film Fest which has been plagued with an inferiority complex in comparison to its more glamorous peers, and a downtown core that has lost its lustre for me.

That is not to say that I don't yearn for certain things. Obviously, I miss my family and the close circle of friends who have blessedly remained close -- out of sight but not out of mind. And then there's the food. What Montreal lacks in cosmopolitanism, it makes up with gastronomic delights (especially French cuisine) in spades.

The last apartment I had in Montreal was located in an up-and-coming neighborhood, since renamed Monkland Village. I lived upstairs from an SAQ shop (the Quebec version of the Ontario LCBO), St. Viateur (maker of Montreal's best and IMO the world's best bagels), and a tiny but excellent fishmonger.

There were the obligatory Second Cup and Starbucks shops across the street, but far more alluring were the French bakery/cafes: Première Moisson, Au Pain Doré, La Pâtisserie de Nancy. Java U and Benedict's were also local staples as well as a perpetually revolving selection of restaurants that came and went over the years (including the legendary Fran's cafe bistro, which made the city's best cakes until it closed after the owner retired, or so I heard). In the years since I left town, it has further augmented its gustatory selection, including a dazzling kitchen supply store, an adorable cupcake shop, and a gourmet butcher shop.

On summer days, I could smell fresh batches of bagels baking in the wood-burning ovens of St. Viateur. I would use those olfactory cues to run downstairs to buy a dozen bagels that were still warm and at their peak of deliciousness. Weekend mornings had to begin with a visit to Pâtisserie de Nancy, which served the finest croissants I have ever had to date. They are light yet buttery, with a flaky golden exterior and a fluffy and chewy interior. Accompanied by a bowl of cafe au lait, it was the perfect breakfast.

All these provisions were a hop-skip-and-jump away from home. Toronto has amazing bakers, butchers, fishmongers, grocers, etc. but they are dispersed so very far apart that it requires some planning and significant travel time to access.

My most recent visit to Montreal fulfilled a long-standing wish: dinner at Au Pied de Cochon. My parents made this dream come true on the occasion of my birthday (Thanks Mom & Dad!). Au Pied is the brainchild of chef Martin Picard, known to many as the star of The Food Network's The Wild Chef.

I've sung the praises of nose-to-tail eating before. This was my opportunity to open my mind and palate to dishes that are truly unfamiliar or inaccessible to me, namely the use of offal like head cheese (which is not cheese at all, but meat from an animal's head), pig's trotters and ears, blood sausage and foie gras.

The first thing that struck me when we walked into the venue was the smell of roasting meat and maple syrup. I don't mean the stink of artificial maple flavoring -- lately, someone in the office has been bringing in a snack that overwhelms the recycled high rise oxygen with a sickening odor of synthetic maple. No, this was the soothing fragrance of a sugar shack in the woods that has begun the annual process of boiling maple tree sap. It made my appetite soar.

For my starter, I ordered the Head Cheese Fritters (pictured at the top). I was expecting the meat to be tough but it was tender and also flavorful like roasted ham. The shredded meat was shaped into cubes, battered and fried. Enhancing the taste was the exquisite sauce -- it had a wonderful mustard kick from capers, and benefited from fresh herbs and what I believe was a Hollandaise sauce.

I chose the Cured Foie Gras and Boudin Tart for my main. From what I understand, the foie gras was salt-cured. Boudin is a blood sausage. The tart crust was a flaky puff pastry. There was a layer of creamy sauce, topped with caramelized onions, thin slices of potato, along with beautifully cooked Boudin and the superbly delicate foie gras rounds.

The portions were massive -- big enough to feed two or possibly three people. I could barely eat half of my tart. It goes without saying that I asked the affable waiter to doggie bag my leftovers. Even the next day it was mind-blowingly good.

My only regret was that I couldn't sample more. Next time I visit, I plan to order an array of starters and appetizers in order to taste as many things as I possibly can.

I haven't had much of an appetite to eat or cook since coming back (hence the dearth of blog posts this month). One might say that my appetite is still in Montreal, where it wants to be.